December 6, 2010

The ancient neglected Gravenstein apple tree was so laden with fruit this past summer that several of the branches snapped off leaving ugly jagged scars. There are several apple trees on this property, some old, some young, and I have done fairly well at keeping them pruned but intentionally left a couple of the old ones ‘go wild’ mostly because I simply did not choose to make the time to keep them pruned but there was also something about their magnificent wildness that was captivating. When my children were young they hung ropes from the mighty moss clothed arms and constructed a primitive platform supported by these same arms. As they grew older and lost interest in that kind of imaginative play I noticed that their platform had been taken over by creatures of the night, raccoons I suspect.
Who hasn’t wanted to live in a tree at some time in their life? To the east, along the banks of Rock Creek some enterprising young folks have built a fantastic tree house that goes up four storeys! I kid you not! You can ascend a flight of stairs and a series of ladders and sit on a leather couch thirty feet above the ground. When I came upon this structure several years ago during my annual Winter Solstice walk, wherein I am on the lookout for the tiny Wren, I was incredulous. The Wookie scenes in “The Return of the Jedi” came immediately to mind. It was truly magical and truly real. I sat at the base of the tree and marveled at all the material and labor that went into this ‘play’ for truly it was nothing more than the expression of grand imagination.
Trees do many things….too many to list but it strikes me that one of their greatest contributions to my life has been their capacity to lift my imagination. And then there comes a day like today when I have just come in from cutting away at that old Gravenstein apple tree with my chain saw. The roar of the engine, the hot steel teeth cutting into the very old wood, and the warm chips flying, take me to a different place.
I understand my place in the garden as that of being a steward and in this case it means confronting wildness and taming it. The broken branches and serrated scars, if left unattended, herald the entry points for disease, rot, and eventual death.
I will say this. It’s a lot more fun to play in a tree than climb a ladder with a chain saw and start cutting away, yet, my imagination remains a part of my stewardship. I imagine the apple wood bucked up and curing in the woodshed over summer and warming the house next winter. I imagine corn, potatoes, or almond trees growing in the ground that has been opened up. I imagine the raccoons that ravaged the garden last summer checking the tree out in their nocturnal prowling and saying to themselves: “Hmmm….didn’t we see something more to our liking down there on the banks of Rock Creek.”
But what really grabs my imagination is the idea of Wookies living down there.
I’ll look for signs when I’m down there again on the 21st of this month.